


Long Lost

by LateStageInfernalism



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Father/Daughter, Incest, Long Lost Daughter, Revenge-to-Romance, Romance, Rural, Western, daughter - Freeform, father - Freeform, two perspectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStageInfernalism/pseuds/LateStageInfernalism
Summary: A bitter daughter seeks revenge but finds a father's love.
Kudos: 8
Collections: LateStageInfernalism's Original Stories





	Long Lost

Author’s Note

Attempted suicide and suicidal ideation plays a part later in this story. I do not want to surprise anyone with this, given what I know of the subject.

Despite how it may seem, this is a story of love and redemption. I sincerely hope that you enjoy it.

James

I know what you're going to think. What kind of forty-year-old dude picks up a female hitchhiker half his age? That's an understandable thought. Honestly, I would think the same thing if I were you. I wouldn't blame you at all for dismissing me now as a pervert. I'm just going to tell my side of things, and you can make up your own mind.

I live in the country. Well, honestly, the country might be a little too civilized a term. I live where you might drive twenty minutes between houses, and the mountains are just next door. The air smells of pine and the days get cold pretty often. I was driving my truck back from the nearby largeish town which is two hours away on the interstate. I had just picked up a month or so of groceries and supplies. I had a number of repairs that I wanted to complete before winter set in. If I put my mind to it, I figured I could get them all done. Plus, that had the advantage of keeping me busy. I'd deal with the future when it arrived.

I had gotten off the interstate, and then off of the main road which ran through the small village (really just a gas station, two fast-food restaurants, and a tiny general store) onto the road that would take me the rest of the way home. I love this part of the drive. Nothing but God's country, the pines, and wildlife. Even at night, you might see all kinds of things. You had to be careful, but it was worth it. 

By the time I was driving this part of the road, it was getting dark. I was about five miles along with another ten to go when I saw her. I was immediately worried. There's nothing on this road but my house and my closest neighbor was about twelve miles after mine. She could literally be walking all night and never reach anything. I knew I had to stop. If my wife had been with me, she'd have insisted. I pulled up beside her.

I leaned over and rolled down the window. 

"Hey, are you alright?"

I couldn't make out her appearance very well. She was at least dressed fairly warmly and she had a backpack. Even before she spoke I could tell she was pretty young, maybe in her twenties. 

"Um. Yes." she seemed kind of uncertain but I couldn't tell if it was concern about the stranger who just pulled over or hesitancy about asking me for help. I decided just to ask.

"Can I help you get somewhere? This road doesn't lead many places and it's getting dark. I'm happy to drive you. I'm James, by the way"

"I'm Tanna," she said. She looked at me, thinking, "About how far is it to the Jensen farm?"

She seemed to be testing me a bit, maybe making sure that I actually lived on the road. Smart. Bill Jensen was my neighbor. Was.

"Their farm is about twenty-two miles ahead," I said simply.

"Jesus. Everything is a lot farther away than it looked on the map. Would you drive me out there?"

"Uh. Well, I don't mind doing that but we should talk a bit first."

"All right," she said, and she opened the door, threw her back on the back seat of my truck, and hopped in.

When she got in I could make out a little dark brown hair escaping from under a wool hat. She was younger than I thought, somewhere between eighteen and twenty. She had a lovely face, her pale skin flushed with the cold of the autumn air. Her clothes and coat were appropriate for hiking in the cool weather and bulky, so all I could notice about her figure was that she was definitely petite. Maybe five feet tall plus a little. I can tell you right there I was really unsure about leaving her on a road like this at night. She seemed capable and prepared, but something about just dropping off a tiny girl like this in the middle of nowhere worried me quite a bit.

"Thanks," she said, obviously glad to be out of the cold, "What do we need to talk about, exactly?"

"Well," I said, pulling away from the shoulder, "The Jensen farm is up this way, but nobody lives there. He was my friend, passed away last year in a car wreck."

"Oh," she said and sat there quietly. Her face looked like I had just hit her, and she had the beginnings of tears in her eyes. I just waited for her to talk. We had a little ways to go still.

"I...He was my dad, I think," she said, simply.

Holy shit. I didn't know he had a daughter. Hell I'm not sure he knew he had a daughter. And I was a little skeptical, to be honest. He didn't seem the sort to abandon anyone, but you never knew.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it just like that. Whereabouts are you from?"

"Um. Canada. British Columbia. Sun Peaks. Its a few hours northeast of Vancouver."

"That...is a long way from here." I was honestly very impressed.

She laughed.

"Yeah, I guess. Um, not sure why I came all this way now. It never occurred to me that he might be..." she trailed off. 

It was obvious to me that there was no plan B. She had been trying to get here the cheapest way she could, and now there was nothing at the end of the road. Now I knew I had to help her.

"My house is coming up here in about five minutes. You can come inside, I'll make you some tea, get you something to eat. If you need to, you can spend the night, got plenty of rooms. If you prefer I can drive you out to a motel about forty-five minutes from here. I can put you up there for a few nights, no problem. Up to you. But either way, I can't just leave you by the side of the road." I couldn't leave her there. I did what I knew my wife would have done. I'm not saying I wouldn't have done the same, but she was a good guide for me, even now. 

"Um," she said, obviously conflicted, "I think tea and food would be great. I...I don't really have much money though..."

"This is just hospitality. A lot of people out here still believe in it, so don't think I'm special. No money needed."

"Th...thank you," she seemed a bit choked up, "Maybe I could spend the night and then tomorrow we could decide what to do?"

"That would be fine. Don't worry too much about tomorrow. No one is going to leave you in the cold."

The rest of the trip we stayed quiet, which was fine with me. It didn't seem awkward to her either. I could tell that she needed time to absorb what I said. And while we drove, I thought. I remembered that Jensen had lived up north in Canada for a while when he was younger. I couldn't remember the name, but he had told me about a ski resort that he worked at every winter, and all the crazy antics he had gotten into. He also mentioned that he slept around a bit with both the tourists and the local girls. I did some quick math in my head and her age was just about right. Could he have left a girl behind? Maybe never even knew she was pregnant? That seemed more like him. He'd never abandon a child or her mother, I was sure of that. But accidents happen. Shit. Now I definitely had to help her. Bill Jensen was more than just a friend. By the time he'd died, we were basically brothers. He'd left me his land, knowing I would keep it pristine and maybe donate to the park service or just let it be.

Well, if she was who she said, then the land would belong to her, no questions asked. That would be the very least I could do for her. 

We finally pulled up to my house. I was glad I had left the porch light on when I left. I did tend to tarry and get chatty with people I knew at the stores and the diner I liked to eat at and then get back late. We got out and I led her into the house.

"I'll get that tea started and then I need to unload the truck. Some stuff can stay overnight but I need to get the food indoors." Bears wandered down into the valley sometimes and they could cause some mischief if they wanted to.

"I’ll help you unload."

"You don't have to. You're a guest."

"I'm a freeloader," she laughed, "and I want to help."

So that's what we did. I started tea and showed her to her room to drop her bag off. She seemed impressed or at least pretended to be, which was appreciated. I basically live in what you might call a large cabin. It's simple and rustic, but comfortable. 

We unloaded the truck in amicable silence, and it did go a lot quicker with two people. She might have been small, but she was clearly in good shape, maybe better than I was. We had everything in the pantry by the time the tea was whistling. Meanwhile, I got out some sandwich makings. It was simple but no one would starve. She didn't complain, and we made our own sandwiches and sat down with the tea. 

She ate so fast I wondered when the last time she had a real meal. I tried to keep the conversation light. Dumb jokes, dad-jokes, you'd probably call me. Just to make her laugh and keep her mind off the next day. She needed food and rest. I wasn't going to let her suffer. And now, of course, I could see her well.

She wore a blue sweater, jeans, and some well-worn hiking boots. She was about five foot, and very young. Her dark brown hair was cut in what my wife called a Pixie do but I just called it cute. Her skin was pale like the snow and damn near perfect even though she clearly wasn't wearing any makeup. While she was definitely skinny, she had curves. Her jeans left nothing to the imagination, showing off her tight ass, and her small breasts were outlined by her sweater. Her eyes were ice blue, and her features were small and delicate, although by now I didn't think of her as fragile. She seemed about as tough as she was attractive.

Look, I'm wasn't planning on doing anything, even had she offered. That would have both violated the hospitality I had extended and made me feel like I'd let Bill down. That being said it had been about three years since I'd gotten laid and there was no way I wouldn't notice the features of an attractive young woman in my house. And she was, to put it mildly, stunning. The fact that she happened to be my type enhanced her natural attractiveness. In my younger days I'd have been turning on the charm. Thank god I was older and if not all that much wiser, at least better. Stronger of character would be how my wife would have put it.

We finished eating. I showed her around to the essentials. Her bathroom (it really was hers because I had a master bath that I used), her room, the living room.

"If you get hungry or whatever just eat or drink whatever's in the fridge. Rest up, and tomorrow we'll talk about what you want to do next."

"Thank you...really, I mean it," she said as she shut the door to the guest room.

I felt good about myself for what I had done. Everything seemed fine for the night, so I turned in.

Gemma

I used to be a very bitter person. I was spiteful about the way my life had gone, and I had someone to blame for all of it. Although some people would tell you that it was a natural result of upbringing and life circumstances, I don't believe that is an excuse or even a reason. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I can tell you my side of things. I still feel sad thinking about what happened and what almost happened.

The whole process was a lot easier than I had expected. Then again, I didn't have to act as much as I thought I would. I really was tired and cold and hungry. I really was grateful that someone stopped and picked me up. I really was happy for the conversation after being basically alone with my own thoughts for weeks. And the house really was warm and nice. 

I just despised the owner. 

I had a few more sob stories prepared. How my family had died, how I had discovered where my father lived, how I had traveled by bus and hitchhiked across Canada and the western US. Some of it was even true. As it turned out, I could save them for later. Good. That would make the next step so much smoother. 

I had to watch him for a few weeks. Ask questions (but not too many) and make some calls. I had even called him directly once about a fake delivery to see when he would be "available". He drove to town once every two weeks on Monday. Tuesday if there was a holiday. He always left in the morning and returned late afternoon or early evening. There was only one route that made any sense, and he had to drive past a McDonalds. I could go there every morning from the motel I was staying at (which was, ironically, the one he had suggested putting me up at). It even had wifi. In the morning usually, about five to ten cars drove past to get onto the interstate. I knew that he drove a red 2014 Ram 2050 with a custom camper. There were a lot of pickup trucks out here, but not many that fit that description.

After I saw him drive past, I just had to kill time and get on his road by mid-afternoon. I refused two rides. The first one was a nice old lady but the second was a skeevy dude in an old Corvette that made me grip the chemical mace in my pocket tightly. Luckily he drove on. And then, a little later than expected but still on schedule, my dad found me.

He looked like the pictures I had of him, but...better. That was an odd thing for me to notice, but I didn't really let it bother me. He was tall, lean, and had that ruggedness that comes from being outdoors a lot. He had some deep lines on his clean-shaven face but they were smile lines. He wore some beat up jeans, cowboy boots and a flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled up over his forearms, exposing some rather impressive muscle. He smelled of pine and wood smoke. His eyes...were a lot like mine, honestly. He had an aura of relaxed confidence, like there was nothing that he couldn't handle. And he exuded masculinity, but not the kind that you need to be afraid of or that has to prove itself. Even the way he sat told me he was reliable, decent, kind, but honest.

I wonder if he had fooled my mom with this same act. It had to be an act, after all. Decent men didn't abandon pregnant women and kind men didn't pretend that their daughters didn't exist. Reliable men made sure that their children didn't get kicked out on the street before they were legally allowed to vote. Honest men kept in touch with their offspring, even if they didn't get along with their mothers. He clearly couldn't be any of those things.

I was a little disturbed that being in close proximity to him had an, uh, "effect" on me. Specifically, it turned me on. He turned me on. I had an image of him pressing me back into the seat of the truck, gently opening my legs to his hand as he kissed me relentlessly on my neck. It was spontaneous, unwelcome. I was attracted to him right away, from the beginning, even though I knew that he was my biological father. Inwardly I laughed at the irony but I also knew that I could use it. It would make doing some things easier if it came to that. I had made every part of myself a weapon.

When we reached the house I couldn't help but be impressed. It was like a log cabin but huge. It had two full stories and what looked like a big attic. Lots of windows all around so you could see the forest, the mountains. I bet you could even glimpse the nearby river. Inside everything was wood and clean. Hardwood floors with tasteful, simple rugs. A large kitchen that you could use to prepare meals for a lot of people. It was not the stereotypical house of a bachelor. I noticed that he gave me a huge guest room with a king-sized bed and its own TV. If it were a hotel I'd have expected to be paying a lot of money. 

I saw that there were pictures of a small blond woman all over the first floor. She was definitely beautiful, curvy, smiling. Looked at least as country as he did. She wasn't my mother though. I wonder if she was what replaced her. What made him forget about her. About me. I wondered where she was and if she would approve of her husband bringing home a strange eighteen-year-old girl. I doubted it.

He really had no idea who I was. He bought the Jensen story completely. I had to do a lot of research on that part, but it really paid off. "Tanna" was real, but she was going to school in Vancouver. She wasn't Bill's child though, just a girl near my age who had been born a little after Bill Jensen left the area who happened to not have a father listed on her birth certificate. A little money, time, and effort got me a copy, just in case.

I knew that Bill Jensen was dead, but I had no idea that he was James' best friend. I couldn't have planned that part any better. It was obvious that he felt some kind of obligation towards the dead man. I wondered if he had wronged him in some way. From what I knew it would be typical of him to care about someone else's child more than his own flesh and blood.

The plan was actually pretty simple. Get him to bond with me by any means necessary, and I do mean any. Once he felt a deep connection to me I would steal everything of value that I could (from his house or bank accounts), and then leave, making sure to let him know exactly what I thought of him on the way out, probably by wrecking his home. If he had a wife or girlfriend I knew that I could destroy that relationship too. Then I'd send him a letter explaining everything so he would know why he was suffering and that it was just. I wanted him to be broken, broke, and alone. I needed him to know what it felt like to be betrayed and abandoned to fate by a loved one. I didn't really care about the money or if what I did would put me in jail. I didn't care about anything but hurting him. I certainly didn't have second thoughts from his manner or the way he let me into his house with no strings attached. I slept like a baby and dreamed of revenge. That's how it was the first night.

James

By now you realize that I am a fool, but I didn't yet. That would come later. Sometimes it's better to be a kind fool than to be wise and cruel. That was something my wife cross-stitched for me. I think it was her way of saying she accepted that I made dumb decisions at times because I made them for what she saw as the right reasons. I missed her.

I got up at my usual time, which was pretty damn early. I didn't sleep so well anymore so it wasn't a big deal. I made twice as many eggs, bacon, and hash browns as I might normally and plenty of coffee. I didn't wake Tanna up. She could sleep in as late as she wanted. If these got cold I had plenty more. 

As it turned out, she got up right after me, coming in as the coffee was finishing on the stove. She wore some shorts and a shirt that...wow. I mean it. She was a looker. Smooth legs curving up to a bubble-butt. Tight tank top showing the curve of her small breasts and the tiny points of her nipples. I didn't stare at her or leer or anything. This was all pretty obvious at first glance. I noted to myself that I should be on my best behavior and that she was wearing that because it was comfortable, not for my hungry gaze. It was not my place to judge or act like a lustful teenager, so I made my eyes behave themselves.

She was smiling.

"I kind of expected you to have a dog. It seems like there should be a dog keeping you company while you make breakfast. Maybe begging for some bacon?"

"An astute observation," I said smiling, a little ruefully, "Jones passed on a little while ago. He was a good boy who lived a long time and had a good life. Been meaning to get a puppy at some point but...it just hasn't seemed like the right time."

It hadn't been the right time for a lot of things, I reflected. I hadn't seen any women or written a single word since my wife died. I hadn't ridden a horse since then either, though I did find homes for the two that we kept. Good ones, with kids who would love them. I kept the dog. He was more my wife's than mine, but we got along fine and always had. He looked out for me and I was happy for him to be there. He passed right after Bill. After that, it just felt easier to be alone than to lose anything else.

"I'm sorry," her face fell a little bit.

I smiled at her.

"Don't worry about it. He'd of liked you I think. He was a retriever mix and he always seemed to charm all the ladies."

Then she noticed the food.

"Breakfast smells amazing. And I'm starving. I actually wanted to get up earlier and help you with it..."

"Not today," I said, gesturing for her to sit. 

"Tomorrow then," she said, smiling impishly. I could get used to that smile. 

"If you want. I'm going to be working on the barn today. I figured you could get settled and decide what you want to do. You're welcome to stay as long as you want. Any daughter of Bill's is family to me, really. We do have some inheritance stuff to discuss, but that can wait until you're ready."

She seemed a little surprised.

"Wait. What kind of inheritance?"

"Bill left me his land and house. Since you're his daughter that would rightfully belong to you. I don't know if you would want it but we can also figure out the market value and I could purchase it from you, so to speak. The important thing is that you feel like you've been treated fairly."

Now she was stunned. It was the first time I'd seen her unsure what to say. It was kind of adorable.

"Um. I...I'm not sure what to say. Don't you want proof that I am who I say?"

I did, truthfully, but I also realized overnight that it might be much harder to provide than I first considered. Would his name be on her birth certificate? If it wasn't, did that mean anything? A woman giving birth in a small town out of wedlock might put nothing or the name of the man she ended up settling down with down as the father. And it wasn't like I had a lot of Bill's DNA just hanging around to compare with hers.

"Well, I figured we'd talk about that too. 'Good enough' proof is what my wife would call it. I'm not a lawyer or a bank and I don't need three forms of ID. Your story checked out with what I knew of Bill. He'd never abandon a child. Ever. I'm sure of that. But I'm equally sure that he sowed his seed all over the place, pardon my phrasing, and it wouldn't be hard to imagine that he had a child that he wasn't aware of. Just think about it."

"I, uh...I will. Thank you. Really." she wasn't smiling at all now, and I hoped I hadn't been too serious.

"Don't worry too much about it though. That can be taken care of pretty much any time I go to town. For the time being, just relax. Go for a walk if you want. There are paths that lead up into the woods or down by the river. Just don't go off the paths or stay out too late. We do get bears and cougar around here. They tend to leave well enough alone, but you never know."

The day passed pretty much as expected. I finished the first part of my repairs to one of the horse stalls and then joined her for lunch. She had a tablet and she told me she was checking airfares and considering going home. I asked her about her mother.

"She passed a few months ago. That's why I'm here," was all she would say. I didn't press her, but it sure seemed like "home" didn't hold a lot of appeal to her.

She said she was going for a walk that afternoon and I repeated my warnings like the old man I felt like. By the end of the day, I had finished up work on the floor of the hayloft where some wood had rotted away and become dangerous. I was sweaty and tired but felt some accomplishment. And I looked forward to dinner with company. I don't think either of us really expected how that went. 

Gemma

Was he just going to give me land or money? Without any tangible proof? How stupid was my father, anyway? How did someone like this con my mom into sleeping with him? We didn't always get along but my mother cared for me in her own way, and she was smart. Everyone knew that. Well, I guess love makes fools of everyone from time to time. I considered how I could work this to my advantage. 

Could I fleece him twice? Once to get cash for the land and then somehow figure out his account numbers to take the rest? Would that even be possible? I looked at airfares back home to California. And then I looked at trips to Europe. I didn't have a passport yet but I could get one. It sounded like I was coming into at least a hundred grand.

As he left to go outside and start work I reflected that the tank top and shorts had been a perfect choice. He hadn't been able to look away from me when I came into the kitchen. He forced his eyes elsewhere, but for a moment he had been obviously filled with desire. It wasn't a shock. I knew what men wanted, especially from girls like me who looked a certain age. I could be seductive and radiate innocence. I'm just an oh-so-naive girl who hasn't even lost her virginity, sir, won't you protect me? Worked every time on men like him.

When dad came home at lunch he was a pleasant distraction. I pretended to be agonizing over where to go so that he'd inevitably ask me to stay. We talked about the weather turning soon to rain and probably snow not long after that. He told me about the horses that he used to have out in the barn. I was actually kind of surprised. I'd always loved horses as a child like a lot of girls seem to, but I'd never really grown out of it. But horse ownership isn't really something a poor city girl can really have on her agenda. He, naturally, offered to take me riding if I wanted. I wanted very much to do so, but I suppress the urge. It wasn't worth risking the payday.

No attachments from my end. To anyone. Ever. That was what I told myself.

After lunch, I went out for a walk, although I wanted to get back well in advance of my father. I needed uninterrupted time to search the house. The day was cold and it was as if I could feel winter pushing autumn out of the way despite it only being October. I took a path that went north through the woods and then meandered back by the river. 

The rushing water looked icy cold even now, and the rocks beside it were slippery and moss-covered. I didn't get close, but I did wonder if it would be getting worse soon. Lots of rain was forecast fairly soon, but the house was significantly higher in elevation so flooding shouldn't be an issue. There was something about the grey autumn sky, the low hanging cloud layer, and the muddy water which felt deeply foreboding to me. I didn't like it, so I went home. I'd spent more time than I had intended but he was still out working on the barn so I decided to risk a quick search.

I started upstairs. It seems like he left the doors open, usually being the only person around. That would give me an excuse if he caught me snooping. I found something that looked like an office. It had an unobstructed view out back to the barn so if I kept checking I should have no chance of being caught. The walls were lined with inset bookshelves, probably made by hand, that was filled by books. A lot of them looked like duplicates, which didn't make much sense, but I wasn't really interested in them, yet. There were two desks, one large and oak that looked relatively recent and one small roller top that looked like it was an antique. I started with the roller top but it mostly had correspondence in a feminine hand and a lot of bills and receipts. Could this be where his wife worked? It seemed like she shipped things all over. In any case, there was nothing of value so I moved to the other desk.

I started finding items of interest right away. There was an old laptop there that was open and unlocked. Diving in I saw a lot of online bill sites...and writing software? I found file after file of writing. Interesting to be sure, but no inherent value, unless. I finally turned to the walls of the room and understood. The books almost all listed the same author. The name wasn't my father's but when I picked one up and read the bio on the back jacket a lot of details matched up. Just a boy from California who became a bit of a rancher, lived with his wife, horses, dog, blah blah blah. 

Huh. My dad wrote western mystery novels under a pseudonym. That explained why he didn't seem to have a job. He probably didn't need to work beyond this. He had at least two different series of books, one historical and one modern. I'd seen them probably a million times in bookstores and had dismissed them as work for middle-aged women with cowboy fantasies. I smiled. There was definitely money here.

I looked back outside. Shit. He was coming back. In a moment of inspiration I grabbed one of his books and ran downstairs. I lay back on the couch in the living room and looked like I was engrossed at the start of the book. That would earn me a gold star for sure.

He came inside, filthy with sweat, dirt, and dust from the hayloft. He smelled but it was of honest work, clean sweat, and...it was kind of wonderful.

“You reading that tripe?” he said laughing but clearly pleased, “I’ve heard that the author is kind of a hack.”

“I don’t know, I think he looks handsome on the back of the book,” I beamed my most inviting smile at him, “and the story is kind of riveting.” 

Ironically, when I did eventually read it, I loved it, although I sat down with him and told him about all the writing and plot choices that I thought were mistakes. I guess I’ll always be my mother’s daughter to some degree.

"I'll grab a shower and then I'll start dinner," he said, smiling, like always

"OK, but I can get started now if you tell me what we have," I was going to be the best houseguest of all time. In a week or so he'd be used to me cooking and cleaning. The only worry I had was when his wife would get back. Would she be as easy to fool as he was? Or would she be the suspicious type? Granted if she were jealous, that could work in my favor as I drove a wedge between them by being both sexy and innocent. But he hadn’t mentioned her. Had she left him? Had something happened to her? I’d have to ask sooner or later if he didn’t mention her.

"Well, I was thinking of frozen lasagna, to be honest. Got some salad makings too."

I laughed.

"I'll find it and get started. You just wash up, stinky."

He left and I started the oven. I decided to make the salad look a little fancy. I had taken care of myself for years now and knew a few tricks from youtube. Nothing overly impressive, just making carrots look like flowers and shit like that. It would show that I cared. By the time he came back down the lasagna was almost done and I had two identical salad bowls that looked like a someone had spent a lot of effort on them. I guess I did, but it was pretty easy.

"Wow. That looks amazing," he said with obvious sincerity. Like a lot of the things he did. 

For a moment. Just a single moment, I questioned what I was doing. I hadn't done once that since I had located him through my research. When I committed my effort and meager savings towards this plan and abandoned my life in L.A.

No. Being sincerely appreciative of my salad-making skills or even being kind sometimes didn't necessarily make him a good person or excuse what he had done in the past. I would stick to the plan. I just had to remember why I was doing this and not be weak. That made it easier. I knew firsthand what weakness got you. I would never be prey again, only a predator.

I made dinner that night from scratch. Nothing too serious, just salmon and vegetables, well cooked and seasoned. I also found some wine and was sure to serve him plenty throughout while having a little myself. He never once tried to stop me from drinking despite me being under twenty-one. Ok so that doesn't really mean anything but...ugh. I feel the need to point out all of his observed moral lapses because there were so few of them.

Anyway, my goal was to get him talking. He never talked about his wife, and I wanted to get him to admit to having a daughter if I could. I knew the truth but it would be good to hear it from him directly. There would be no more hesitation after that.

"So...I've been meaning to ask about the pretty blonde in all the pictures..." I opened.

He smiled, but his eyes were sad.

"That's Nina, my wife. She passed. It'll be three years this November."

"Oh," I felt a little bad for both bringing it up and because that wouldn't be a lever I could use on him, "I'm sorry. How?"

"It's ok. It does me good to remember her. It was cancer. Pretty quick, all things considered. Enough time to prepare, take a little trip, and then she was gone. Very little suffering. I suppose I should be grateful, but that's not the thing I could ever give thanks for. I'm selfish. I would have let her suffer if I could have held on to her for another month. Or day I guess."

He was pretty drunk at this point. Or I thought so anyway. I pushed.

"Did you guys have any kids?"

"No. We tried but it turned out she was infertile and by the time we were seriously considering adoption she was starting to get sick. And honestly, I don't think I'd make a good single parent."

The son of a bitch dared to even say that after leaving my mom alone. I kept my shit together, barely.

"What about before that?"

"Kids before that? No. There was someone once...I could have made a life with her."

I perked up.

"Who?"

"She was back in California, where I grew up. We were very young and in love. She was smart, beautiful, and never forgot a slight. Which was a problem for us since I, well..." 

He got serious for a moment but then burst out laughing. 

"Well I guess was I the probably the worst boyfriend ever. She dumped my ass and I came out here to the mountains, all sad and lonely, like a country music album. It was the best thing for me, honestly, and definitely the best for her."

My eyes narrowed and I gripped my chair tightly. He was lying to my face and laughing about it.

"How were you bad, exactly? You hit her? Cheat on her?"

It was a little too aggressive and I regretted it when he looked shocked. I told myself that I didn't feel guilty for saying those things.

"No," he chuckled, "I was just the most inconsiderate sonofabitch you'd ever seen. I forgot her birthday, brought up embarrassing shit in public, hell once I even flirted with another girl in front of her like it was no big thing. In my mind, I wasn't trying to sleep with her so it wasn't. Pretty pathetic stuff, honestly. I came out here and grew up fast."

That didn't line up with what mom had told me, but I wasn't surprised that he was minimizing. She had described him as truly awful in many ways but never liked to get specific. She did say he could be wonderful but his choices made him unacceptable. Mom really liked that word.

"So you moved on?"

"No. As a matter of fact I didn't, at first. I dated out here but I kept thinking about her. And I grew up, realized what I was like. So I wrote her a letter."

"A letter?" It did seem like the sort of old-fashioned thing a writer might do.

"Yeah. It was a very detailed apology with asides about how I had grown up since then. I asked her for another chance but I told her that I'd respect whatever she said."

"Did she reply?" I hadn't heard about any of this before so it was probably a lie, but it was best to hear all of it.

"She did. It was brief. Polite though. Very. It didn't feel like she still felt the kind of spite that she did when she gave me the boot. She accepted my apologies and said that she appreciated that I could admit that I was wrong. She also said that she'd met someone and was quite happy with them and really didn't want me back in her life. I was sad about it but I respected her honesty. It was freeing. Let me move on, and eventually, I met Nina."

I changed the subject to the upcoming rain after that. I'd heard enough of his lies. I'd make him eat them soon.

Things went like that for a few days. I got up early to make breakfast, simple stuff, but he was over the moon. During the day he did repairs around the ranch and the house. There were a lot of things that he said needed to be done before the snows came. After I had gotten all of the cleaning under control and done all the laundry that was around, I asked if I could go out with him and help him on some of the repairs. He agreed and his smile was...well it was heartwarming. It didn't fit the image I had of him in my mind. 

I paid attention and could tell that I was, in fact, helping as opposed to just being in the way. I learned to anticipate what tool he'd need or where to hold the light or whatever. And he clearly appreciated the company. He made me laugh a lot with what I can only describe as dad jokes. Later, when I was alone in my room that would bother me to an absurd degree. Why did I think they were so damn funny, anyway? I couldn't lie to myself. I was enjoying his company. Goddammit. 

Looking back this is where things kind of started to go sideways for me. After about a week of working with him outside off and on, I feigned illness to stay behind while he went out. Well, I didn't feign it, I had a cold, but it wasn't that bad. I needed time to do one more pass over the house, solid, careful, and thorough. I wanted an account number, a dirty secret, something I could use against him. I knew that he would be going to town soon and that might be my chance to take advantage of anything I found.

It took me three hours to find it. Since it was a nice house I was looking for safes, hidden spaces behind pictures, and frankly being ridiculous. That's when I realized that dad...I mean James...probably built or renovated at least part of this house himself. He was handy, and I had seen that he was a skilled carpenter first hand. So I started looking for boards that looked firm and fit well but were actually loose. Jackpot.

Upstairs in the back corner of the master bedroom just on the other side of a dresser, I saw it. A floorboard with a tiny bit of extra space and a conveniently placed knothole that could be used to lift it. I did so. There was a thick envelope. By now I knew he would be home soon and I needed to be quick. I took it out and looked at the first few pages. There they were. Account numbers, codes, stock information, even some details that could be used to login to his publisher and reset direct deposits. I snapped pics of all of it and then replaced it. I had only seen about the first ten pages and I wanted to come back later and look again. Now that I knew where it was it would be a lot easier. I wish I'd kept reading it. Or just stolen the whole envelope and read it all that night. But I didn't.

We were only a few days away from his trip to town. I was going to get him to make us a joint account. I wouldn't ask for any money, just say it was for what I have with me (my life savings of $542). Once it was set up I would use the online banking codes and dump the other accounts into it, then I could shuffle that money out in a number of ways. At that point, I thought I'd move money to his stock account, buy a bunch, and then sell the whole portfolio and deposit it elsewhere. 

I thought that he trusted me enough to set up his own doom, just in case I decided that it was time to escalate a bit. The goal was to build trust and connection so that he’d be blind to what I was actually like. So that night, after dinner, I'd kiss him. Just an innocent girl falling for an older man. Fairly chaste stuff. That was the intent anyway. 

I made us dinner, simpler this time, just frozen food. We sat on the couch and watched old Hammer films. It turned out we both loved the Christopher Lee films. I always thought his voice was sexy and dad thought he was the best actor to ever play Dracula. At some point, I cuddled up to him. I felt him tense at first, but then relax as he realized that I wasn't doing anything overtly sexual. Maybe he thought I was just a lonely little girl who needed a father figure. I guess I was.

I mean, at this point I actually did think that I wasn't trying to seduce him. Just tease. I mean, I was pressing my warm, nubile body against him but I wasn't grinding on his cock or moving his hand onto my tits or anything. And the kiss I had planned was basically going to be the old "oh I meant to kiss you on the cheek" trick, except "accidentally" hitting him on the lips. Just a gentle touch of the lips. This wasn't my first long tease of a man. I knew how to start slow and work up to it. If you did it right, they wanted you a lot more than if you'd just blown them.

I kind of fucked it up. 

I got us both some wine as we were about to watch the next film (Dracula Has Risen From His Grave). I was being the good little submissive daughter stand-in. Which is pretty hilarious now that I think about it in hindsight. I handed him his glass, then set mine down. Then I decided I'd just up the ante a little. I wasn't ready to admit to myself that I'd been looking forward to this kiss. And I'd had a few glasses by then. 

I straddled his lap like the little slut I was and kissed him full on the mouth. Long and slow, letting my tongue dart in his mouth and my hands move through his hair. It was not the kiss of an inexperienced little girl. It was the kiss of a too-experienced girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it. And I wanted my...my daddy. I should be honest here, even if I wasn’t with myself. In the course of pursuing revenge I'd also spent a lot of quality time with a man who I both desperately wanted validation from and found intensely attractive. He'd been nothing but a gentleman which I was completely unaccustomed to, and that worked like a tease on me, wearing my weak self-control down. I’m aware of how ironic that was.

I didn't expect him to set his glass down and return the kiss. I certainly didn't expect him to be a good kisser, either. A really good kisser. I felt his hands on my back as we made out and I shivered. I felt them on my ass and I trembled. I stopped kissing him and, thinking only with my lady parts, wanted nothing more than to feel my skin on his. So I took my shirt off.

My breasts are small but very nice. They fit in the palm of the average man and they have a perky upturn that everyone seems to love. I don't need to wear a bra, which I love, and they bounce really well when I take my shirt off. I did it nice and slow to emphasize that little bounce. It worked, maybe too well. He was on them in seconds, kissing them, fondling them, suckling on them. And he wasn't rough either. He was fucking perfect. Just the right amount of tongue and gentle pinching. 

I have a very sensitive chest. Some girls couldn't really care less and for a lot it's just one erogenous zone among many. For me, it's probably the second best after my pussy. So it drove me wild. I ground my pussy against him, feeling his hard cock. And it wasn't small. In the depths of my mind, I realized that I was engaged in some seriously lewd shit with my own father, and that...that really turned me on even more. 

I reached down and loosened his belt, unzipped his fly, and pulled his cock out. I did it so well while I was drunk there really couldn't have been any doubt in his mind that I was a little fucking slut and not some pure waif in need. But I fucking wanted to touch it. I needed to hold my daddy's cock in my little hand. To feel him respond to my touch, proving that even if he didn't love me like he was supposed to, he felt something for me. 

I made him feel something all right. His cock twitched in my hand and I giggled sinfully. I have a really great giggle. Sometimes I call it my "bedroom laugh". He responded by unbuttoning my own jeans and pushing his large, warm, and rough hand down against my tiny, tight pussy. Oh fuck that was good. I couldn't think straight for a second. My daddy was finally loving me the way I wanted. Oh god, it was so fucked up but it felt so right. I'm getting goosebumps just writing about it.

Again, he was gentle, and he found my clit very quickly. For once I actually felt like an inexperienced little virgin and he was like some kind of sex god. I jacked him off awkwardly in fits and starts while he fondled my little pussy and teased my clit until I was wild with desire. If he'd asked me then I'd have taken his cock in any of my holes. When I reached a point where I was almost crying with need, he used his palm to steady me and give me something to grind against while his long, agile finger slipped inside me. Fuck. I'm wet now, writing this. I can't help it.

I wasn't able to focus on his cock now. He had me in a grip where I ground against his palm and then ended up fucking myself on his finger. And he had it hooked just right so it hit my g-spot. He got me coming and going. Pretty soon I was cumming on my daddy's hand, shaking and trembling. And then I said the first thing I regretted.

"I love you," I mumbled out after I was a quivering limp wreck, laying in his strong, protective arms, "and I want to make you feel good."

As manipulation goes, it's fine. A good choice of words to make him care about me even more. But I meant them. I fucking meant the fucking words and I was losing my focus. I didn't stop there. Now that I had release I spat on my hand, grabbed my daddy's cock and was determined to make him cum. 

I looked him in the eyes and bit my lip.

"Come on baby, cum for your little slut," I said, very excited at the idea of seeing my daddy's sperm, "Cum for me. Please. I need to feel it..da...James."

I almost called him daddy right then. I was so fucking horny for him, so filled with the need to please him. 

"Oh fuck," he said, "I'm..."

It had been a while for him, and he came hard. I expected to get my hand and maybe my belly a little messy, but daddy's cock surprised me in the best way. It sprayed thick ropes of sperm onto my belly, on my breasts, on my face. Some even got in my hair. He must have been a little frustrated from all the days of being near me after all. Again though, I was just happy to have made him cum, and to feel his...his love all over me like that was heaven. He had marked me. I was his. That's how I felt. I’d given men hand jobs but I’d never enjoyed it like this. And he didn't even hesitate to reach out and pull my head in to kiss me. Not for a second did he think I was dirty or gross for having his seed all over me. I didn’t even know that men like that existed.

After a minute or two, I realized how badly I had fucked up. I got up and practically ran to the bathroom. I'm sure that confused him a lot, which probably helped me. I didn't feel bad or wrong for having had that experience with my father. That was the problem. I felt good and right. I just wanted to let him clean me up and then settle in his lap and fall asleep. I wanted him to tell me he was sorry for having been a bad father and then take me to his bed. I looked myself in the mirror, my father's cum dripping off of me. The sight both turned me on further and made me feel loved.

"Goddammit Gemma you stupid bitch get your head in the fucking game," I sternly told my reflection. 

It seemed to help. I was cold and certain inside again. It was time to act. I needed to get the envelope and see what other account information was there, and then begin the asset transfer to the stock account. I figured if one or two of them went through then the rest would be child's play. They probably dealt with the one percent transferring far greater sums every day. With any luck, I could be gone before he noticed that he was broke. 

In the pit of my stomach, I felt something heavy. I think it had been there a while, but I hadn't noticed. I didn't understand why it was there or why it seemed to be getting worse. No, I pretended not to understand. I was very good at pretending by then. 

Why didn't I just stop and think for just one fucking second? 

I wish I had. I’d have been a lot less trouble for everyone involved.

James

Hoo boy. That was something all right. After finishing me she just ran off. She wasn't crying but she didn't seem happy about what happened. I thought about chasing her but I was too shocked to even think about comforting someone else. I hoped that I hadn’t hurt her or pushed her too far.

She was an adult but I was definitely the more responsible party. That's how I thought about it. I felt pretty bad about having done something like that with Bill's daughter. On the other hand, I didn't. I wasn't using her for sex. I wasn't withholding help from her on the condition that she satisfy me. I...I enjoyed making her feel good just like she clearly loved making me feel good. Was there any reason (other than society judging age differences) we couldn't have a fulfilling sexual relationship? I couldn't think of one. And hell, if she decided against it I was still going to help her in any way I could. I went to bed and slept better than I had in months.

In the morning she seemed a little awkward at first but then she came up to me and kissed me on the cheek. 

"Last night was...was actually pretty good. I don't regret it, but I got a little confused after. I just don't know if I'm ready to go any further. I'm sorry if I misled you."

I smiled. I had prepared myself for something like that.

"It was wonderful for me, but you take all the time you need. If you don't want to do anything else, I won't be upset. I...I do care for you though, more than a friend."

She blushed. I hadn't actually seen that before. It was adorable and charming and, well, innocent. Even knowing what I do now, I would still call it innocent. She clearly wanted to say something to me, but for whatever reason, her smile disappeared and she didn't. We sat down and ate breakfast together. It was a little melancholy, but it still felt pretty natural to be with her.

"D...James. Can I go to town with you tomorrow? I'd like to do some banking. I've made some decisions for my future. Maybe you could help me with them?"

And I admit, they seemed like good decisions. An account for her was perfect, and that she was willing to trust me as also having authority on it was flattering. I mean, it was likely I'd just be putting money into it, but it was still a big deal to me. 

In the meantime, I had a lot of fencing to inspect. It didn't interest Tanna and I didn't blame her. I told her to take it easy and maybe we could make dinner together that night. She smiled and said that she did have things she needed to do during the day. She said it with a mysterious little smile that I found charming. 

I didn't look forward to the work, but the sooner I started the sooner I could be finished. It was about mid-morning when my phone buzzed. I looked at it. It was an automated message from my bank.

"Your account has been accessed from a new computer. If this was not you, please click here to report a security violation."

Shit. I'd received texts from the bank before and this was real. I hadn't gone to my online bank in at least a month, so someone had clearly hacked me. I started to move my thumb to click the link.

Then it hit me. I was so stupid. How could I not have seen it?

It was her. It had to be. Was she a con artist? How much work would it be to find out about Bill and where he lived? Was her goal to convince him that she was his long-lost daughter all along? Or did she know he was dead? Was I a target the whole time? That would make sense, given the royalties from my books. Fuck. 

After I stopped cursing myself for being a trusting fool, I started to think. I opened up my banking app and checked the accounts. Nothing had changed, nor had there been any requests to move funds. Something wasn't adding up to me, and now that my brain was apparently working it had noticed some problems with the con-artist theory. 

An experienced criminal wouldn't have set off that bank alert in the first place. Hell, if her goal was to steal money from me I could think of easier ways. I was ready to sign Bill's farm over to her or its monetary equivalent. That was a lot. And my gut told me something else too. Some of what she'd said and done might be lies. A lot of it might. I wouldn’t pretend otherwise. But there were moments where she was clearly unguarded, vulnerable, and truthful. When we were just talking at dinner. When she was out helping me with repairs. When we had nearly fucked last night. If she was out to take me for all I was worth then she was conflicted about it.

And I felt, deeply, that I was still missing something. There was a motivation that ran deeper than greed. I couldn't place it, and I'm still embarrassed about it. I made a decision. I would place a semi-hold on my accounts for a few days. I called the bank and informed them that I was traveling. They were a small regional company but they had the ability to make it so every single transaction had to be approved by text from my number. I never really left my phone unguarded and I was sure she didn't know the code. I felt kind of crummy for setting a trap, but I also knew it was kinder than just calling the cops or telling the bank to start investigating.

I finished up my repairs up early for the day and headed back to the house. I expected a number of different possibilities. Would she be gone? Would I catch her in the act? Hell, I even thought that she might be dangerous, and there were guns in the house, though I kept them locked up when I wasn't using them.

I entered the house quickly. Not stealthily so much as suddenly. If she were up to something then she'd have to scramble and I'd hear it. I waited.

"Hey," she said, looking over from the couch. She was sitting there, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, legs up. Her eyes were big and rimmed with red. Was she sick? Had she been...crying? 

"Hey," I said, my suspicion and confusion turning quickly to concern, "Are you all right?"

It seemed odd to suddenly be worried about someone who I was sure was lying to me. She looked so forlorn, sitting there, and every part of me told me that it wasn't acting. She was not the same girl that she was when I left that morning. 

"Yeah," She said, showing me a real, sunny smile, "I just don't feel so well. If it's ok with you I might turn in early. Not sure I can make it to town either tomorrow. I'm...I'm really sorry."

She didn't apologize like someone who couldn't make a trip. It was...I don't know what it was like. More serious, maybe? 

"That's fine, honey. Go rest. I'll check up on you in a bit." 

She nodded, stood up stiffly, and slowly made her way up the stairs. It was like all the life had gone out of her.

I meant it, too. I was going to check up on her. I wish I knew what was going on. Well, I was sure I'd find out one way or another if I waited. Like any good hunter, I could be very patient.

I'd know the truth sooner or later.

Gemma

I was all set. I had his accounts open on my tablet browser. In another tab I was logging into the stock agency. I had accounts, passwords, usernames. 

But the brokerage wanted a four-digit pin. There was nothing like that in any of the pictures that I'd taken of his documents. 

"Fuck."

Such a simple word, but so much frustration in it. Both with my inability to finish the task and with the small part of me that was happy that I couldn't log in. The stupid, small, weak little girl who was in love with her Daddy. If that part of me was standing in front of me, I'd have killed her.

I went back upstairs. He was out repairing fences but that could take all day or just an hour or two. I ran to the back, found the bolt hole and took the whole envelope before replacing the board. I would just have to return it when I had a chance. I needed to go through everything and I didn't want to do it in his bedroom. It was dangerous, to be sure, but it also made me uncomfortable in ways that I didn't want to address.

I went to the bathroom by the guest bedroom and locked the door. There. That was probably about as safe as I could be. Lord knows he'd knock before even attempting to come in here, and I could always say I was sick. I was still fighting that cold, so I suppose it wasn’t entirely a lie. In fact, it felt a little worse.

I began to flip through the papers. No pin yet, but there were personal documents here that didn't relate to finance. Correspondence from lovers, family photographs, an address book that must be decades old. I would have to check all of this for dates, years and any four-digit numbers. I was getting desperate.

Letters from his wife? That would make sense. No. I mean they were wholesome, touching, and even a little erotic but really not what I was looking for. Maybe something on a picture? Goddammit was he the only person who didn't write dates on the back of photos? Fuck.

And there was one more letter. I guess he had written to mom after all. But he had left a little out. I felt something building in my chest. I ignored it. I had to read it. I needed to know what she really told him. Would she finally give details about what he did?

'James,

I will admit that I opened your letter with some trepidation. We didn't separate on the best of terms. I was therefore pleasantly surprised when you took responsibility for the things you'd said and the ways in which you had been inconsiderate. I think you might be a bit hard on yourself. We were both young and are certainly not the same people that we were then.

I do not require any assistance, money or otherwise. I am doing fine. I am romantically involved with someone currently and we are discussing marriage. I will be moving shortly and I will not be providing my new address.

I request that you do not attempt to contact me again. Please respect my wishes in this matter, I do not wish to contact a lawyer but will if necessary. 

Best Wishes,

Karen'

Huh. He told the truth about the letter, at least in part. She didn't seem to be very angry. A part of my mind was screaming at me to think, but I ignored it. The letter didn't mean much. Mom had always told me that he had been both awful and completely uninterested in being a parent, refusing to even consider involvement in my life or child support. That's what she said. Over and over, whenever I asked. 

No.

No. I don't understand it. I won't. No.

Goddammit, stop. I felt the tears coming despite my wishes. Just like the thoughts.

'I do not require any assistance, money or otherwise...'

'I do not require any assistance,'

'I do not'

'I'

Not we. No entreaties for child support. No mention of abandoned responsibilities. She mentioned marrying my step-dad though. The fucker. She divorced him not long after. But that means that at the time this letter was written I would have been at least...five. A five-year-old daughter, and not one word. That isn't the sort of thing you forget in a letter. And based on her responses, dad didn't ask her about me. 

No. Stop.

There would have been some mention of me. There should have been. She said she asked him for support. Begged him to be involved. But here it was, her big chance to tell him that he had better start paying attention to his responsibilities. He'd even apologized for being a bad boyfriend. And instead, she had refused help, told him she was moving and threatened him (politely) with a lawsuit if he reached out to her. All the better to keep him from dropping by or searching for her and...

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

And...

No.

And discovering by accident that he had a daughter.

Oh no. No. No.

Now that the door was open, all of the signs that I had been ignoring, all of the little kindnesses which he'd shown me. All the indicators that he felt immediately protective towards me despite me being a stranger. All of it came out. Of course, he didn't know. There was no way an honest, reliable, decent and kind man like him would ever have abandoned a little girl. He might have maintained a distance if asked, but he would provide support, and do everything possible to see her if he could. He would have been an ideal father for a willful and curious child like me. A laid-back balance to my intelligent but critical and neurotic mother.

So naturally, that meant that everything I believed and had done was based on lies. Mom lied. For her own reasons that I'm sure she thought were important. She never did like complications in her life. She never did have problems with deceiving people "for their own good".

He didn't even know where she was and she kept my stepfather's name after the divorce so he wouldn't have known about her funeral. 

And if all of this were based on lies, then...no, fucking stop it. That was enough. I knew enough for one day.

Then, my brain continued mercilessly, that made me a thief. No, that wasn't it. It made me a lying thieving whore who seduced her own father so she could get rich and destroy him. I don't know why I was surprised to discover this, after what I had to do in L.A. to stay off of the street. There it was. The simple truth. Finally.

If only I hadn't already done what I did with him. Maybe then I could have confessed to him. But now? I imagined his face, his kind eyes looking down at me as I told him what I'd done, and why. Telling him about the months I'd researched and plotted. What I had prepared to do to him, the only innocent family member that I was aware of. I imagined that he'd be angry, maybe hit me.

No, I knew that wasn't right. That would be easier. That would enable us both to be guilty and we could start over. I wanted to be punished so I could be forgiven. But this was bigger than a little bit of physical pain that I would probably just find a way to enjoy.

I imagined his heart breaking, his eyes showing such disappointment, such sorrow that his only blood would do this to him. I saw it, and it burned me. I would not see that. I would never see that. I couldn't bear it. 

So what did that leave? I calmly put everything back in the envelope and returned it. I wouldn't want him to have a hard time finding it whenever he needed it. I went downstairs and sat on the warm couch where I'd had the only really positive sexual experience of my life, and at last, the tears came. Great choking sobs and ugly crying. Real grief over what I'd done and become. It could have been five minutes or two hours. I don't know. When it ended my mind had thankfully shut itself off. I was damaged enough for one day.

Then daddy came home. I was really happy to see him, at last. No anger, no rage, no frustration, just simple joy at seeing the man I loved. The man I could never love.

I felt nausea building inside me as he showed concern. For me. No! Don't trust me! Don't! I told him I felt sick. It was not a lie. I went upstairs and into my bathroom. I vomited until there was nothing left by dry heaves. Then I went to bed. A solution would present itself to me with some rest. Yes. Sleep was needed. Sleep and darkness and void. It would be fine.

I woke up to him knocking on my door. It took me a moment to realize where I was. For a single second everything was fine, it was just my man, my father, coming to check up on me. I haven't been feeling well and that's what a good daddy would do, after all. Then I remembered who I really was and it came crashing down again.

"I'm still not feeling that great," I told him, truthfully.

"I'm going to be right down the hall. Just shout if you want soup, or 7-up or something. I don't mind making it. You really don't look well."

I laughed ruefully.

"I'm really not well. I promise to tell you if I need anything. Or if I get worse. Or better."

I don't know why I threw that last bit in there.

"Good. Ok, sleep well. That rain is coming tonight so I probably won't be able to go to town anyway. I'll look in on you later. I...I love you."

And then he was gone and I was alone again with my thoughts. 

It honestly didn't take me long to plan what to do next. I was always good at planning. First I'd get some sleep, then I'd go see my daddy. I set an alarm. Four hours seemed like a reasonable enough time to 'get better' from an illness. It was still easy for me to lie. I laughed. I was who I was, but there was no need to hurt anyone else.

I slept dreamlessly until my tablet's alarm woke me. I went to the bathroom and drank some water. Then I went to my daddy's room. 

I wanted to give him something. So that he might remember our time together and have a nice reminder of me. Something selfless. 

And I also, quite selfishly, wanted to spend the rest of the night in his arms.

I got in his bed on my knees. I didn't wake him yet. I just watched him sleeping, breathing softly. I truly did love him. That was real, at least. Eventually, I pulled my t-shirt off and then my panties. I wanted to be as pleasing as possible to him tonight. 

I gently moved the light blanket and put my small hand slowly down his pants. I put it on his flaccid cock and began to stroke him. He was hard immediately. I smiled. My daddy was a sexy and virile man. I was proud of him.

His eyes fluttered awake, confused at first, but then loving as he recognized the nubile little girl stroking his cock. 

"I felt better and I wanted to do something for you. Is that ok?" I asked, my eyes large. I was aware that my voice must have had a ‘little girl’ quality but I really did want, no, need his permission. If he didn't want me I would never push him. I’d done enough without his consent.

"Oh honey that feels so good. Yes."

That was enough. I pulled the blanket back and then his waistband down. I wanted to mount his cock so badly, to have my daddy's cum inside me, but I didn't deserve that. So I used my mouth.

"Oh god..."

I started slowly, licking him from base to the glans at the tip. Like a delicious ice-cream cone. He tasted clean and so masculine. He moaned and put his hand in my hair. He didn't grip it or force me, although I wouldn't have minded. He simply stroked it gently as I pleasured him. I knelt between his legs, facing him, then took just the tip in my mouth. I wanted him to see his beautiful cock in my tiny mouth. I knew he would love it. He did.

"You're so beautiful, so young and lovely..."

Even now he wasn't calling me names, telling me I was his slut. He could have, I wouldn't have minded. But the things he said weren't like the things other men said. And they made me so fucking wet. My daddy thought I was beautiful. I didn't care about anything else.

Although I wanted this to be purely about him, I was a selfish little slut. My hand found its way to my cunt and I started playing with my clit. I was so turned on by doing this, by his words, by his taste.

I took him deeper, halfway now. He gasped and moaned and didn't speak. I took him into my throat.

He groaned loudly. I almost came from that alone. My throat was small and tight and I gagged but held him in there for as long as I could, then took a breath and did it again. This wasn't my first time giving head to a man, but it was the first time that I really enjoyed it and loved who I was giving it to.

I realized that I truly didn't care if I came. I just wanted to serve him, to do something for him for once in my miserable, worthless, ungrateful life. Anything to be a good daughter for my loving daddy. Anything to forget how awful I was, even for a little while. All of my plans were shattered. I knew how tomorrow would go. How it would end. I wanted just a little more happiness and stability, a little more time with my love. Then I'd do what I had to do. What I understood was the only option, given everything I had done. It would be best for him in the end. He'd see it and maybe even appreciate it one day, that I made things easy and didn't put him through a trial.

I felt him twitch in my mouth and I sped up. I wanted his cum like nothing else. I moved up and down, sloppy and gagging but so eager to please him. I gagged and his cock made the lewdest noises sliding in and out of my tight little mouth. I stopped working on my clit and started fingering myself. We climaxed together. It was beautiful. 

As my body shook I felt his warm seed filling my mouth. So much of it. God, he was such a strong man, so virile. I wanted to drink every drop but some escaped me. I swallowed what I could. I wanted him to know that I loved every bit of him and whatever came from him. 

I smiled at him, my eyes watering, his cum leaking on my chin. It felt like the first honest and good thing I'd done in forever. He smiled back at me, his eyes full of compassion. He had kleenex by his bed and he lifted my chin and cleaned it tenderly. Then he kissed me on the lips, passionately and slowly.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Of course, honey. Come here."

Then he wrapped me in his warm and strong arms. He pulled me close to his chest and held me tight. God, he smelled good. I felt safe. I slept.

I dreamed that he said I was his good girl and that he was proud of me.

James

I held her in my arms. There was something so desperately loving about the way she had serviced me. She was limp and warm in my arms. I felt my cock hardening again from being close to her tight young ass and from having my hands on her small, pert breasts. I hadn't wanted anyone so badly since I'd first bedded Nina, taking her from behind as she begged me to do. I didn't wake her. 

She said that she was better but she still felt a bit warm to me, and the way she was sleeping so deeply, I realized that she needed rest. Tomorrow I would ask her who she was and what she really wanted. But I would do it my way, at the table or on the couch, after telling her that I loved her and would accept her. None of what had happened tonight was fake. She was at least as much in love with me as I was with her. Everything else would sort itself out.

When I woke she was gone. My gut told me something was wrong. I threw on jeans and a shirt and went downstairs. The rains had finally come. The sky was terrible and grey, and there was unseasonable thunder. It came down in torrents, washing down off of the mountains. The river would be swollen beyond its banks soon if it wasn't already.

I looked around and there was nothing but silence, the room dark. Oh god, where was she? Something bad was going to happen, maybe had happened. I was about to start searching the house when I glanced out the window and saw her there, standing on the covered porch.

It was in the high 40s outside and she wore nothing but shorts and a t-shirt. She must have been freezing but she was there, arms at her sides, staring at the rain. Something about the way she stood worried me more than anything else. I pulled shoes on and went outside. She looked up, surprised, then smiled. It was not reassuring.

"There you are. I wanted to wake you but you were sleeping so soundly that it seemed...wrong."

She laughed. It was carefree and spoke of happier times. 

"Hey. Aren't you cold?" I moved toward her, thinking that if I could hug her, hold her, I could convince her to come inside with me. Then we would sort everything out.

"No!" she shouted at me stepping back, "Stay there!"

I stopped, shocked. There was real fear in her voice. Had I looked threatening? I stepped back.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to warm you up, ok? I'm worried about you."

She bit her lip, uncertain, and her eyes filled up with tears.

"I know you are. You're so good. I don't...I don't deserve you. I've been lying to you."

I waited. It looked like she was going to tell me the truth in her own time.

"When mom died I waited for you. I knew that you must have been notified, somehow. That's what I thought. Even if you had abandoned me...you'd come and rescue me. I was so stupid and trusting."

I must have looked confused. She went on.

"Oh. Oh no. I meant mom. I trusted her and she had lied. You would have come. I know that now. Don't worry. I know. But you didn't know. Because mom never told you about me. You never even knew you had a daughter."

She laughed, bitterly this time. 

As soon as she said it I knew it was true. Holy shit. She was...and we had done...oh my god. I was too stunned to speak but she wasn't.

"I fooled you. I did it to get your money and...and to hurt you. But I didn't know how good you were! I wouldn't have if I had known. When Mom died there was no money, just debts. The house was rented but the landlord said I could stay if...if I made him happy. So I did, for a while. It was easy, just handjobs and sometimes with my mouth. He wanted more though and I wouldn't fuck him. No. Even a little slut like me has her limits. So I was out on the street.”

"And I was so angry, daddy. It wasn't right or fair or anything. I was never the best student, never the best at anything, but I was good. I tried to be good for mom. I didn't get in trouble and I worked hard and paid for part of the rent."

"I crashed at friend's houses. Some of them were really nice, but couldn't let me stay forever. Others wanted what the landlord did. I'm a good little slut, daddy. I'm sorry, I know you don't want to hear this but you need to know how awful I am. I still worked and saved and...and I planned. I found things out, about you, about your neighbor, I had an idea. If you abandoned me then you owed me. And I'd take what I was owed. I knew what men wanted, and I wasn't afraid to...to seduce my own father. I'm sick, I know, but it's different now. Please believe me. I found out. I saw the letter and I know mom was lying and I love you. Please...just believe that."

Well, shit. 

That fit all the facts that I knew. The lies. The conflict. The love she'd shown me in unguarded moments. Goddamnit. I saw it too late. 

To my surprise, I didn't give a fuck about any of it. I didn't care that we almost fucked. She was my little girl and I loved her. I loved her like a daughter and a woman and that was all that mattered. I loved her unconditionally. 

"Honey...I do believe you. All of it. It all makes sense. I forgive you. I love you. You're my little girl. Come inside with me and we can make this right."

She sighed like I had just given her the best gift in the world. I could almost see the load lifting off of her shoulders. She wasn't ok, but maybe she was heading there. I stepped closer, but she stepped away. I was confused.

"Daddy," she said, "please remember that my name was Gemma."

Was. Why did she say 'was'? Oh fuck.

She bolted. I didn't expect it, not even for a second. She was off the porch and headed to the path into the woods, barefoot and fleet as a deer. She was so fucking fast. I had longer legs but I wasn't going to catch her. Not with my knees. She was hopeless and alone and was doing something drastic. 

For once though, with sick certainty, I knew where she was headed. It was obvious. The fucking river. Oh god no. No no no, not now. For a moment I was ready to give up. I was slow, she was fast. That was the math of the situation.

But I knew the land and she didn't. She took the path. I ran and I ran straight. I knew where she would come out. I knew that if I went through the brush and the trees and the rocks I could beat her. It was shorter. I could do it. For fucks sake let me do it.

I ran faster than I ever had. I was in the brush and it cut at me. I felt it on my legs and arms and face. Something flowed from my forehead into my eye and stung it. I ignored it, I knew that the rain would wash it away. I was in the trees. Much easier going. The needles were wet and slick but also soft. I stumbled a bit but made good time. Then I hit the rocks.

I tried to skip over the first one and landed wrong. No, not my fucking ankle. I twisted and fell hard. I was dizzy, lost track of where I was, the wind knocked out of me. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I think that probably should have ended my running.

When thought returned, I was on the ground, the rain soaking me. My ankle ached. I tasted blood and felt more flowing from my forehead. I could only breathe in shallow gasps. 

"I have a daughter, and she needs me. Now."

Saying the words aloud gave me life. I stood up, my ankle held, and I ran. 

There it was, the river. Oh god, it was worse than I expected. Almost over the banks, muddy and frothing like a mad dog, the entire length was a rapid now. But where was she?

Oh shit there she was, coming down the path, a small blur. So small. The river would crush her against the rocks. When they pulled her out she wouldn't even be recognizable. The only mercy is that it would kill her swiftly.

She hadn't seen me. Her eyes were on her goal. Death. Goddammit, what had fucked her up this badly? How had she come to the point where she thought this was the best possible solution?

I adjusted my course, sped up. I don't know how I had any speed left in me at that point. All I knew was that I had to go faster, so I did. 

She was going to get past me. I could see it. Nothing could stop it. I was going as fast as I could. 

Then, finally, something in her life went right. She stepped on a leaf. A big one. To this day I have no idea how it ended up there, next to a strand of pines, but I thank god every day for it. It was wet and slippery and her foot shot out from her. She fell forward and to her right. Towards me and not the river.

Instead of hitting the dirt like she expected, she hit me. I caught her and lifted her up, keeping her legs off the ground. She cursed and struggled and thrashed. I held her tight. 

"I'm not letting you go," I said softly, "get used to it."

She stopped fighting as if a switch had been flipped inside her. I think that maybe it had. She tucked her head into my neck, held on to my chest and wrapped her legs around me. She held me, no longer trying to escape. Finally, she was just a little lost girl clinging to her daddy. I sighed and held her tight. 

Every part of me hurt. My ankle was sore, I was bleeding, and I think I pulled a few muscles in my back. I didn't give the slightest fuck. I carried her home as if she weighed nothing at all and I was half my age. It was the easiest walk I've ever taken. 

I got her inside and up the stairs. She was shivering and I could feel how cold her tiny form was pressed against mine. I took her straight to the shower and peeled her clothes off her. She didn't resist but she was shaking too much to help. I stripped down as well but at this point sex was the last thing on my mind. I ran the water hot and lifted her into it, holding her against me. I stood there cradling her against my chest until her shivering stopped. 

I got out and set her down. I was worried that even now after all this she would run but she stood still and simply looked at me. I dried her slowly and gently and I finally allowed myself to become aware that I was next to a beautiful naked woman. Internally, I told myself that she was my daughter, but my cock didn't care. I still wanted her.

I led her to my bedroom. Part of me wanted to put her on the bed and fuck her roughly. Not to punish her but to claim her, let her know that she belonged to me so she couldn’t just hurt herself anymore. I'm not proud of that, but I resisted. I got out an old black sweater and helped her put it on. I just wanted her to be warm. Finally, I put her in my bed and she lay down, completely compliant to me. She looked up at me, her eyes huge and sad. I could tell that she expected something from me, but I didn't know what it was.

"It's ok honey, you're safe. Sleep."

That was all it took. She nodded slightly and closed her eyes. She was out almost immediately. I looked at her and felt nothing but love and an urge to protect her. I hoped that I could. I gently ran my hand through her hair and she made a small but satisfied noise and leaned into my hand. I realized for the first and final time that I loved her not just as a daughter but as a woman and there was no way that I could stop. 

Well, that could wait until she had a chance to sleep. I got up but a small hand had a hold of my wrist. I realized what she wanted and got into bed behind her, spooning her gently. She pressed into me and moaned slightly when my cock begin to get hard against her small, firm ass. I suddenly felt completely drained and fell asleep next to her in minutes.

When I woke up she wasn't in my arms and I panicked immediately. Had I managed to lose her after all? As soon as I opened my eyes I saw that she was kneeling on top of the covers, watching me. She wore my sweater like a short dress, and it looked almost unbearably sexy on her. She smiled down at me.

"I was just watching you sleep. I hope that's not too creepy."

I smiled back.

"No, it's not. You look better."

She did. Some color had returned to her face and her eyes were lucid and relaxed, not wild and feverish like they had been on the porch. I wondered if she had been physically ill and if that had contributed to her...to her suicide attempt. I still have trouble even thinking about those words to this day, much less writing them.

She looked away from me, played with her hands nervously.

"Do you still want to forgive me? I'm not going to run anymore. If you want to call the police, I'll go. I won't make any trouble or tell them about...I won't tell them about the stuff that we did together."

The idea of putting her in jail was so absurd to me that I almost laughed out loud. 

"I forgive you. I love you. I want you to stay with me, but that's up to you."

"Even considering what I did to you? What I almost did to you? Even knowing what I did...to survive...back in L.A.?"

I was not a moralizer. I don't know what I would have done in her situation, but I certainly didn't judge her for it. As for the rest of it, I realized that I had come to terms with it as soon as the truth was out. If I thought my father had abandoned me I might want some kind of revenge on him too. It's all too human to blame and hate.

"That doesn't matter. No, that's not true. It does matter, but I accept it, all of it. If you give me a chance to love you I'll give you a chance to love me back. I guess what I mean is if you want to make up for what you did, then what I want is for you to try to live with me. If it doesn't work out, then we'll figure out something. I'm your father and now that I know I won't abandon you."

"I'm ready to try," she said hesitantly before breaking out in a mischievous smile that I was already in love with, "Is it selfish of me that I want to start with the enjoyable part of loving you first?" she said, and then smoothly took off the sweater.

I'd seen her naked before, but it had either been dark or I had been focussed on saving her. Now, in the light of the early afternoon, I had a chance to appreciate her. She was everything that I thought she would be. Her short, dark hair was messy from sleep. Her shoulders were slightly freckled and curved down to the small of her back, perfectly proportioned. Her breasts were small with a slight upturn. It was easy to imagine her holding them in her small hands. Her nipples were tiny and hard, and from the flush on her body it wasn't from the cold. Her belly had a slight definition to it, flaring out to small hips which then curved down to smooth legs of ivory. Her ass was small and shaped like a bubble. I knew that it was soft but firm from feeling it grinding against me.

I suddenly had an image of what she might look like if I made her pregnant, her petite and fae beauty combined with greater and softer curves. It was something I wanted to make a reality, sooner or later, and aroused me almost as much as what I actually saw in front of me.

Her face turned serious and even slightly mournful.

"Other men have had my hands and my mouth...but my pussy is yours if you want it. You'd be my first, but I’m not a virgin. Not really.."

"I don't care about the men that you’ve been with. I want you as you are," I said with some difficulty. My focus was lacking. I needed her, now, and I was going to have her.

I threw the blankets back, sat up, and pulled her to me, kissing her. It was the first time that I'd kissed her as I wanted to, passionately. Not roughly, not yet. First I wanted her to know how much I loved her and needed her. She wrapped her arms around me but I think she was content to be taken. I was the storm and she was the water, surrendering to me and drawing me in. The thunder from outside felt very appropriate.

I gently and slowly pushed her on her back. She parted her legs, expecting me to mount her immediately. Her pussy was as petite as she was, untrimmed but tidy, her small slit soaked with her juices. I knew that if a man hadn't had her there yet then most likely no one had tasted her yet. 

I wanted to be the one to show her what that was like.

She put her small hands in my hair as I moved to her, kissing and nipping at her inner thighs. Less to arouse and more to tease as I moved closer. Nina had loved it when I went down on her and she'd taught me some skills that I thought would be useful here.

"Oh...oh god daddy what are you doing...it's not...clean there..."

I wasn't entirely surprised that her mother hadn't taught her that oral stimulation could be pleasurable for women. She had been a bit of a prude, and never really got over the idea that her sex was somehow dirty. Well, I could disabuse my daughter of that notion pretty easily.

"It tastes pure as a mountain spring," I said rakishly, gently darting my tongue between her lips before circling her clitoris. I wanted to find out everything about how she needed to be pleasured, but I already knew that her clitoris was sensitive. I also remembered how she reacted to when I'd kissed and fondled her breasts. I reached up around her leg and began to gently squeeze them and pinch her nipples. Her reaction was immediate and I thought she might be one of those girls who could cum just through chest stimulation.

"Oh god...no-one...mmmm...please don't stop daddy. Your little girl needs..."

It's always a good sign when your lover can't form words properly even to talk dirty. She was just gasping and whimpering now, her hands gripping my hair, trying to move my head closer to her clit. I resisted for a minute or two, but when her moans intensified I sucked her clit into my mouth directly. 

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming, daddy. I'm cumming for you!" 

And she did. Goddamn, she came hard. Her back arched, her legs suddenly wrapped around my head, her cries loud and almost panicked, before she finally collapsed limply. That was the kind of orgasm I liked to give my lovers. There was a benefit to all the sleeping around I did as a younger man.

"Oh...oh god I love you daddy," she said, her eyes lazily gazing at the ceiling, drifting in the afterglow, "no one else has really tried to make me feel good."

That actually made me mad. Only one thing to do I guess. I moved my body up to her and entered her slowly. She was so tight that I worried I might hurt her, and I'm not the biggest guy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh god, daddy. It's so good. Keep going....unnnh..."

And then I was completely inside her. I got close to her and began to move, not slow but not hard. Fast enough that she would have trouble focussing on anything other than my cock. 

"Mmm...yes daddy...yes...so good..."

Once she was used to my cock, I put my arms under her back to support her and got up on my knees, pulling her up facing me. She wrapped her legs around me and put her arms around my chest. I moved my hands to her small, tight ass. She didn't seem to understand why I had lifted her like that but she clearly enjoyed that I could manhandle her so easily. Then began to lift her and bring her down on my cock, slowly at first but faster. 

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, daddy. Please don't stop..." she buried her head in my chest, taking my cock as hard and fast as I wanted to give it to her. She was powerless to do anything but hold on and receive pleasure. She understood now, and her wet cunt spasming told me all I needed to know. She had cum again, quickly.

I held her for a moment, then set her down. I wasn't through yet. While she was still recovering from the last orgasm, I gently rolled her over and pulled her ass up. Her head was down between her elbows and she made no effort to raise it. I entered her, harder this time. She started with whimpers as I fucked her, then moans and gentle swearing then she began to speak again.

"Please, daddy, please oh fuck, please use me. Please use your baby girl's cunt. Use it, daddy."

Her speech devolved into simple begging. Try as I might I couldn't take any more. We came together, and I'm not ashamed to say that I was louder then than I had ever been. I came hard, buried in my daughter's cunt. It was one of the largest orgasms of my life and her twitching pussy drained every drop from me.

Finally, I rolled off of her but I didn't let her go. I pulled her to me, kissing her and whispering how I loved her, how I was proud of her, how I wanted her with me.

At last, she rested her head on my chest, satisfied. We stayed there, reveling in the afterglow, in each other, feeling mutually loved. I expected to drift off to sleep.

"I'm starving. Do you want me to make you anything?" she said casually, looking up from my chest with her wide blue eyes. It was obvious to me that this was how it would be. She would care for me as much as I let her. She would actually be what she had only pretended to be before.

"I think I’d like it if made it together," I said. 

The rains carried on. The river ran. We lived simply and well.

10 Years Later

James and I held hands as we walked. This was our favorite path. David ran ahead of us, weaving between the trees, occasionally stopping to look down at a bug or up at a bird. He knew so many of their names already. James called him "Wood Wise" and I think that's a good word for it. Our son had come along three years after James picked me up on the road, and about a year after we were married.

Unlike me, he knew both of his parents and he knew that we loved him unconditionally. He chafed under my sometimes overly cautious warnings but he was aware of the world and its dangers. It didn't stop him from loving every bit of the outdoors and wanting to go hunting or fishing with his father every day. He stayed the hell away from the river.

We had decided early on that we would be as honest as possible with him. We only lied to him about one thing and even that was just a lie of omission. He probably didn't need to know that his mother was his sister, although we both referred to James as "Daddy" sometimes. David just thought I was weird, in the way all children know their parents to be weird. And everyone else just assumed that James and I were a bit kinky. How right they were.

All of James' friends in the area just assumed that he had decided to marry a much younger trophy wife. At first, they all considered me a gold digger. I guess they were both right and wrong. Now that we'd been together for ten years and we still couldn't keep our hands off of each other, they accepted that I loved him sincerely. He always reminded me that anywhere we went, men of all ages looked at me with lust. I reminded him that women of all ages, but especially girls, wanted him to be their daddy too. We were very good with each other.

I loved being a housewife and mother, but I had other duties. James had written four more books and, being the most critical person he knew, I became his first editor and adviser. He said that his recent work was his most refined, the closest to real literature. I don’t think he was just saying it, but I am biased. For whatever it was worth, the critics agreed with me that he was both an excellent storyteller who created satisfying mysteries. Money really wasn’t a concern.

David had decided to climb a little way up a tree, I watched him but he was so sure-footed. I was willing to bet he’d bring down a wasp gall or a spider to show us. I was getting better at not being terrified by things with many legs being suddenly thrust into my face

"James...daddy," I said. He looked at me, his eyebrows high. I generally didn't call him that except when we were making love or I was going to tell him something important.

"My period is three weeks late," I said it calmly, but my heart was racing. I would take a test soon, but I already knew the answer as some women do. I wanted to tell him out here, in the woods that were so important to both of us. Where life and death were in harmony. I knew he loved me and would support me, but I needed to know if, at fifty, he was ready to be a father again. 

In response he smiled wide, lines breaking out around his eyes, picked me up as easily as if I was nineteen again, and kissed me slowly and passionately. 

"Ewwww," I heard David say, disgusted with his parent's vulgarity. He knew his parents loved each other, which was a comfort to him even if he wasn't aware of it. 

I knew that James would be a good father again and David would be a good brother. I knew that my family would be safe and warm and protected. I knew that I would be fucked well and with love tonight. I didn't need to know anything else.

Afterward

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate that you have spent your time and effort on my work when there are so many other fine stories to read. Although I cannot always do so in a timely fashion, I do try to reply to all non-anonymous feedback sent through Literotica's system. I generally don't reply to comments but I do read all of them and pay attention to suggestions, corrections, or concerns. Ratings and favorites are also fantastic validation if you feel like they are deserved. I am grateful for all of them.


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